


Stones and Days

by sweptawaybayou



Category: Angel: the Series, BtVS - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:35:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9141262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweptawaybayou/pseuds/sweptawaybayou
Summary: Angel/Spike/LindseyPrompt ~Handcuffs, No happy endingsAts  s5Originally published on LJ 5-6-2007“Angel ... make it quick.”“If I was going to kill you Lindsey,  it wouldn't be quick.”~Ats 5x17 Underneath





	

Two days. Three hours.

 

He didn't pace the cell. He didn't bang a metal cup against the bars and call for a guard. There were none of the clichéd jail scene moments.

He asked for a desk and chair after the fourth day, when his lunch was delivered and wasn't surprised when just hours later, two men brought in walnut and teak furniture. Small, but serviceable. Paper in the drawers alongside pens and sharpened pencils. Obviously Angel wasn't worried that he'd try to commit suicide. Fuck, he was probably hoping for it, and they both knew that wasn't an option.

He could feel the weight of the building above him and he hated that it was only Angel's will keeping him safe from the Senior Partners. He didn't sleep well, every dream took him back to the cellar and the blood that ran hot from his chest over the scarred wood of the table. The feel of it pooled under him. The last pound of his heart. The name he whispered every single fucking time and the hard, fast, almost more terrifying moment when his eyes would open, his hands going to his chest to find nothing. Nothing. Not even a scratch. But the pain never faded. 

It reminded Lindsey of the phantom ache after Angel took his hand. How he sometimes had fooled himself late at night, with a trick of dim light. The motion of muscles in his wrist and Lindsey would swear to God that his fingers clenched into a fist. Then he'd raise his arm and of course, there would be nothing there. 

He left because he was tired of being afraid. He came back because to keep his pride, he had to fight that fear. Taking Angel down had simply been a bonus in his plan. Getting Eve to fall in love with him had been easy. Fooling Spike had been a breeze. Fighting Angel on equal footing with the magical strength stained into him by the tattoos had given Lindsey a hard-on that came back with the memory. Every time.

~~

Ten days. Fourteen hours.

 

When the two guards returned later, one swinging a set of handcuffs from his fingers, Lindsey figured that it wasn't a stretch to assume Angel had felt it too. Maybe still.

They took him upstairs. Left him on his own in the penthouse living room, hands still chained behind his back. There was an open, half-empty bottle of Irish whiskey on a table by the leather couch. The curtains were drawn back to let in faint light from the streets far below. Lindsey started to move and then stopped, his boots silent on the thick cushion of carpeting. 

He couldn't see them, but he could feel them. Watching him as if he was some random gazelle on the African plain. Hunting him. Maybe he wouldn't have to wait for the Senior Partners to grow bored with Angel's position on their food chain and take him out. Maybe the vampires would do it for them.

Lindsey wasn't shocked to find that thought didn't lower the simmering in his blood or slow the hardening of his cock in his jeans.

“You boys gonna come out and pour me a glass of that whiskey? Or just make me stare at it all night?”

Motion caught Lindsey's eyes and he turned his head. Knowing that he could only see them now because they wanted him to. They walked from the open double doors of Angel's bedroom. Looking rumpled and heated in a way that meant sex and food. And yes, still looking _hungry_.

Angel wore nothing but brown silk pajama pants and Spike's black jeans were barely hanging on his hips. They were both cut and carved and there was nothing in their eyes but the deadly amusement of cats toying with prey.

“Guess you didn't bring me up here to play Jenga.”

Lindsey watched Spike's lips curl into a smile.

“He's smart, this one.”

Angel didn't say a word, but his expression reminded Lindsey of that brief, strange time when Darla had entered and reentered their lives. When Angel stopped acting like he gave a damn about anything. When he started acting like a vampire.

“Shove that soul back in a box, Angel? I'll bet you find yourself needing it less and less the longer you're here.”

Lindsey didn't recall blinking. But he must've. Because without seeing it happen, Angel was suddenly beside him. Standing over him, looking down and fucking God, Lindsey had always hated having to look _up_.

“This has nothing to do with souls, Lindsey.”

One huge hand clamped around Lindsey's throat and when Lindsey tried to step back, he found the equally immovable strength of Spike behind him. He barely heard the sound of his clothes being torn off over his wheezing, strangled gasps for breath and the roaring of blood pounding in his ears. But he felt the cuts of his cotton shirt torn from his shoulders and arms, the rub of denim dragged down his thighs, the jerk of boots ripped from his feet. All without taking off those fucking cuffs.

Then Angel released him and Lindsey fell to his knees, almost to his face. Sucking in air and coughing. 

“T-take off the cuffs, Angel. What're you afraid of?” Lindsey couldn't stop spitting out the words. 

Anger giving him that fire, that familiar rush of mouthing off to bigger men in bars since he was old enough to pass for drinking age. That made him take on clients that were doomed to lose and to shrug off their grateful, meaningless thanks when he won their cases because he never did it for them.

He kept his eyes on Angel, even as Spike tangled his fingers in Lindsey's hair. Lifted him back on his heels and bent his neck. 

“News flash. Not afraid of you, pet.” 

Lindsey felt Spike's lips moving next to his ear. The wet, soft lick under his jaw.

“We going to talk all night, Angel? I thought you said you wanted something warm to play with.”

Angel took the bottle from the table and walked back through the doors to his bedroom.

“Bring him.”

“That's more like it.”

Sharp tug and Lindsey was dragged, pulled along beside Spike. Jeans brushing his shoulder, Spike's fingers like iron bands in his hair as he twisted. Crawling and falling, being held up and in place. The bedroom was dark, the shades turned down. He couldn't see a thing and it was frustrating to know that they could see him. Clear as fucking day. 

Spike's voice came from the left. “So you never ...” 

“No. Thought about it a couple times.”

Angel's answer came from not too far in front and brought a short, harsh laugh from Spike.

“Bet you did.”

Lindsey could've sworn that he felt something move past him in the dark. His thighs cramped with tension, his hands curled into fists. He heard a low moan, the quiet slithering sound of skin on skin and he knew they'd moved again. One of them. To the other.

“Not as much as I thought about you.” Angel's voice was all but a growl. Spike's held none of the playful scorn that Lindsey had already come to expect.

“Wanker. Just had me before. You know how good I am. That's what you missed.”

Hands under his shoulders lifted to his feet. He was between them again, soft skin over stone. Fingers and dry lips touched everywhere. They moved him to the impossibly large bed and Lindsey couldn't stop trying to sit up, to get away, until he felt what had to be Angel's hand on his throat again. Pinning him down. Rendered helpless with this single gesture. 

“This can be easy, Lindsey. Or it can be difficult. Your choice.”

Consensual sex. Or rape. Lindsey shuddered, fighting his own instincts now. Angel's tight grip changed to a gentler one. Long fingers stroked his neck, down his chest. Hands cupped his ass, moved his legs apart. Two mouths that seemed like more. Kissing him, licking him, teeth dragging. Tasting him.

There was no pain, but Lindsey could smell the blood. _His_ blood. Teeth so sharp that they cut without hurting, tongues that were wicked and smart and lips that knew just when to close around flesh and softly suck. Lindsey's spine bowed. His wrists pulled against the metal that held them to the small of his back and even though all he could see was black, he couldn't close his eyes. He wouldn't close his eyes.

He was on his side, then he was on his back. Fingers crushed underneath and hands moving his legs up, apart. Bending his knees and there was a mouth on his dick, and another just under and behind his balls. That same drawing of canines over skin and tongues licking into places that were private, were _his_. Tears escaped and leaked from under long lashes before Lindsey realized his eyes were closed. They were warm, trickling past his temples and into his hair as his body betrayed his mind, his own voice whispering into the sexsweat scented heat that surrounded them.

_... Please ... yes ... please ..._

Lindsey was moved and positioned, held and played with. Brought to the edge again and again until he was shaking, almost whining. Desperate. Sweating. Leaning into each touch. Each bite and rub that came from behind and in front, from beside and below. Hands in his hair, pulling his head back. Fingers between his legs, on his balls, on his cock, inside.

The vampires kissed over his shoulder. He could hear them licking his blood from each other's mouth. Angel had slipped down under him and Lindsey was turned so that Angel's thick, strong neck was right there and he bit it. Dull teeth that did nothing but bruise and it didn't stop him. He didn't care. He sucked in the flavor of Angel's skin and rutted. Rubbed his cock against Angel's, hips pressed to hips and he moaned ... begged ... found himself spreading his own legs and asking.

Demanding.

Pleading.

Furious. 

Spike behind him, fucking Lindsey with fingers that curled and twisted. Lube slick, prying him open, reaching deeper. Then back to working the tight muscles that ringed Lindsey's opening. Forcing and teasing, taking Lindsey past pain. Pulling out and leaving him so suddenly empty that his nipping teeth drew blood from Angel's neck. It coated his lips and teeth, thick and rich and so very _not_ human.

Chocolate, grave dirt and stones, days, months and years. Lifetimes of age and sin.

Instant, guttural laughter from Spike and Angel's hands on Lindsey's hips. Moving him up and slamming him down. Filling him up. So fucking huge, so hard. Too fast. Too deep. Lindsey didn't hear the sound that came from his lips, he was too focused on the strange, wonderful, amazing taste of Angel's blood on his tongue, on the insane idea of taking another breath.

He could feel Spike behind him. Getting closer and closer. Mouth warmed by friction on his shoulder, wet tongue and the nudge of another cock between the cheeks of his ass. Angel controlled Lindsey's ability to move, bruising hands over the bones of his hips, stilling him. Spike pushed him down against Angel, spreading out over shoulders and sinewy spine and muscle and slowly, slowly pushed his cock inside. In him. Both of them.

Lindsey's hands opened, still bound at the small of his back. His fingers found the skin of Spike's abdomen, spread out, held on as white light strobed behind his eyes.

They moved deliberately. Lindsey could feel them reaching for each other around him. Their cocks rubbed inside him, tearing him open. His knees slid apart on the sheets trying to make more room inside and Angel pushed them back with hands on Lindsey's thighs. Made it hurt more, like he was being ripped apart. His cock caught between his trembling shivers and the unwavering solidity of Angel beneath, his balls crushed, his mind reeling.

Spike's lips were brushing his shoulder before Lindsey realized he was talking. Spike's hips fucking down faster and one hand reached between to scrape over and pinch a nipple so hard that Lindsey moaned. 

“Let's make him scream, Angelus, let's hear him sing for us. Wanna drink him down.”

Lindsey felt Angel's hands move to cover Spike's. They slipped in tandem down to Lindsey's hips as they used him. Fucked each other. 

“Come for us, Lindsey,” Angel growled from under him.

Four words that vibrated from Angel's chest up through Lindsey. A whisper that held the power to end a lifetime of nightmares and Lindsey choked on his own tongue as he came. His body suffused with pleasure, his mind coated with pain, his soul already sold and gone.

He didn't have to see them to know that they didn't look human. That even in crowds and while doing business and stealing what was, what had been always rightfully _his_ ... they never had. 

Twin sets of teeth on both sides of his neck. Sounds of swallowing and the swirling, draining, light-headed, incredible orgasm that didn't end when it should. Lindsey kept coming even after he was dry, both Angel and Spike motionless now and Lindsey panted and jerked and keened between them. Sweating and twisting as they drank and Lindsey was finally falling down that dark, bottomless rabbit hole. 

His last conscious hope was that he would never see the surface again.

~~

Fourteen days. Ten hours.

 

Lindsey didn't have a metal cup and sometimes he wished that he'd asked for that instead of the desk. He doodled on the paper until he didn't have anymore. The weight of the building pressed down on him and he could feel the tension growing even here. Alone. He heard the whispers of the guards. He saw the looks passed between them. 

The end was coming, as inevitable as the slowly healing scars left from two vampires fucking through him. 

His fear was gone and now all Lindsey wanted was to see this place torn apart. And he wanted to be in on the fight. He wondered if Angel or Spike would want him. If they could use him.

If they would touch him again.

For the first time in his life, Lindsey needed to wear the white hat.

When the guards came down for the last time, Lindsey was ready to do the right thing. To fight on the losing side. To be part of a team, the team. To ... _belong_.

~~

Twenty days. Eight hours.

 

Lindsey washed the crimson stain off his hands. He felt invincible. Incredible. Dead demons strewn around him, some in pieces, some still bleeding.

The bullets in his chest took his breath away.

The blood in his mouth tasted like chocolate and grave dirt.

_“Angel ...”_


End file.
